


Bottle

by Brinchestiel



Series: Destiel Drabbles, Prompts, One-shots, IDK. [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Boy Dean, House Party, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brinchestiel/pseuds/Brinchestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble written for my dear friend Gingercas on Tumblr, who provided me with the following prompt:<br/>"You don’t think I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice?”</p><p>Enjoy :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottle

** Bottle **

****

The heat within the house is stifling, sweat beads at his brow, sticking his shirt to his back. But, still Cas keeps dancing, because he’s utterly powerless when it comes to Charlie. His best friend had begged him to dance with her, mostly to keep guys away from her, but also in an attempt to try and attract Dorothy’s attention. When better to solicit the attention of the one you’ve been crushing on than a wildly out of control house party?

By the way Charlie’s eyes bug out as they focus somewhere over his shoulder, Castiel assumes their efforts haven’t been in vain. He grins, turning his head to investigate further, and his mind short-circuits.

Dean Winchester is staring right at him.

“Oh my god,” Charlie breathes, gripping at Cas’ forearm. He waits until Dean’s eyes slide away from him before turning his attention back to her.

“I feel like I just witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to, what the hell was that?” she grins, punching his shoulder, “I mean, _you and Dean Winchester?_ And more importantly, exactly _when_ were you going to tell me?”

Castiel flushes, thankful in that moment for the dim lighting. He leans closer to her as the music crescendos to deafening levels.

“There’s nothing going on there, I promise. I would have told you if there was,” he admits, his stomach dropping even though he’s well aware of the truth he’d just shared. It didn’t matter how many hours Castiel spent trying to decide exactly which shade of green Dean’s eyes were, or how many looks he stole in class, Dean Winchester was entirely off limits to him.

Plus, Dean was straight as an arrow.

And a total heartbreaker.

God, he was so screwed.

“I don’t know,” Charlie muses into his ear, “those looked like some pretty intense bedroom eyes to me.”

Castiel snorts, pushing her away, “They were _not_ bedroom eyes.”

“So, how do you explain Dean Winchester fast approaching right now with two beers in his hands?”

_Oh my god._

“Hey,” says Adonis incarnate, handing him a cold bottle of beer.

Castiel starts, trying to avoid Dean’s fingers as he takes the bottle with a nod. He tries to keep the look of panic off his face as Charlie saunters away with a dainty wave over her shoulder.

“Castiel, right?”

Castiel is suddenly far too aware of how sweaty he is, how much of a mess he must look. He raises a hand to his damp hair, coaxing it away from his forehead before nodding once.

“I’m dean.”

Castiel scoffs, “I know.”

“Yeah? How come I don’t see you around much?”

Castiel narrows his eyes. Just what is Dean trying to get at here?

“I… guess we just don’t move in the same social circles,” he offers lamely, taking a hearty swig of beer, sighing when it fizzes down his throat, cools him from the inside.

“Ain’t that a shame,” Dean replies, his eyes boring into Cas’ as he takes his own swallow of beer. Castiel feels his breath hitch at the sight of Dean’s lips around the mouth of the bottle, and he clenches a fist against the tingling in his stomach.

Just then, the volume on the music is cranked up to almost head-splitting levels and Castiel has a hard time of hearing. He says as much with a frown and a tilt of his head. Dean smirks before leaning closer,

“How’d you like to get out of here, Cas?”

All of Castiel’s muscles seem to go lax at once, and he scrabbles to keep a hold of the bottle in his hands. Dean’s throaty chuckle against the shell of his ear is almost his undoing. Almost.

“And go where?” Castiel breathes, his voice a little lost to him. He feels Dean shrug against him, and Cas’ll be damned if their bodies pressed close like this doesn’t set a fire burning within him.

“We could go anywhere,” Dean murmurs. Castiel fears he may pass out when he feels an arm wrap coaxingly around his waist.

“Really?” he stammers.

“Come on, Cas, you don’t think I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice?”

The arm about his waist tightens just a little, and that, _that_ is when Castiel comes undone, unravelling in Dean’s rough hands, just as sure as night follows day.


End file.
